It was a chilly southern wind
That blew across an open field
Changing the design of fallen leaves
That winter had painted on the ground
From outside anyone could see him
A frail figure sitting on a chair
Staring out from a frosted window
His breath appearing and disappearing
On the cold window glass
It was a summer many years ago
When he had first seen her
Sitting outside in the warmth of the sun
Wearing a sheer fawn skirt
That outlined her delicate form
Though he had never spoken to her
Or even stopped to say hello
He had fallen deeply in love
Choosing never to change the relationship
That he had come to feel
While time and seasons
Passed quietly by
He could always be found
Watching her from his chair
This… his most perfect love
Always
From the inside
Of a frosted window
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem